


The Fell Winter

by DomesticGoddess



Series: Centaurs of Middle Earth [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Bilbo my poor baby, Character Death, Child!Bilbo - Freeform, F/M, Fell Winter, Foal!Bilbo, Pony!Bilbo, centaur!au, why do i do this to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticGoddess/pseuds/DomesticGoddess
Summary: In chapter 25 of‘The Herd Of Durin’, we learn that little pony Bilbo lost his parents when wolves invaded the Shire during the Fell Winter. He tells of his past and blames himself for their deaths. This is that fateful winter day, when his happy, peaceful life in the Shire began to fall apart.
Relationships: Bungo Baggins/Belladonna Took
Series: Centaurs of Middle Earth [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1020915
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Fell Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This mini story took place before the time of the HoD story setting and is canon to the HoD universe.😉
> 
> Warning! Writing this made me cry. You might want to keep some tissues handy. 😭😭
> 
> Otherwise~ Enjoy! 😉🥰

“We won’t be gone long, flower.” Belladonna assured. 

“That’s right. But you need to stay in here.” Bungo instructed. “It’s very cold and can be very dangerous out there for a little foal like you. So, you need to stay in here where it’s warm. Your ma and I will be back as soon as we can.”

“But why are you both going?!” Bilbo wondered with concern. They never left him alone in the smial. “Why do you both have to go?”

“We’re almost out of fresh water, darling. We need to fetch some more from the river. We’ll come right back.” Belladonna explained. 

“But Papa get’s it by himself other times.” Bilbo whined a little. He didn’t like being alone. Their family was so small compared to others. 

“Well, we can carry more with two of us and then we won’t have to go again for a while.” Belladonna struggled to explain. 

Bilbo didn’t think that was the real reason. "Then why can’t I come? I want to go outside!”

“No!” Bungo denied immediately. “You will stay in here where it is s-warm. And we will return as quickly as possible. And then we’ll play a game. How about that?” He tried to end on a more positive note. 

“But I want to run!” Bilbo whimpered. They’d been locked away in their smial for weeks, months even. He wanted to run and jump and play! 

“I know. But it will be spring soon and then we can run and play to your heart’s content.” Bungo petted his curly hair. “Now, be a good gilly and stay inside until we get back.” He placed a kiss to his fuzzy forehead. 

“That’s right, flower. We’ll be back soon.” Belladonna gave him a kiss as well before they both headed to the door. She blew him one last kiss as his papa opened the door just enough to peer out. After a few moments, they both slipped out before securing the earth covered door back over the exit.

Bilbo huffed to himself in disappointment. Now what was he supposed to do? He wandered around their underground storage bunker, eyeing the rows of clay pots hungrily. Mama and Papa had warned him not to eat without permission though, so he turned away from the temptation. 

He decided to check the torches instead, just to make sure they wouldn’t go out. Being stuck underground alone was bad enough, being stuck underground alone and in the dark would be too much. He checked both of them. They were only allowed to use two at a time to make them last. 

He leaned into the little work table and stared at the fire, resting his hands and chin on the surface. He missed the sun. He missed running and eating as much as he liked. He didn’t understand why they had to stay locked up in the storage smial just because of a little snow. He was extra fluffy this winter; he could handle the cold! At least, for a little bit. They shouldn’t have to stay shut up _all_ the time. 

He sighed and decided to continue practicing on the little basket he’d been weaving. He was still perfecting his technique and wanted to be able to help weave the fall harvest baskets when summer came.

He sat down to work on it but didn’t even last a couple of minutes. He set it aside in frustration. He wanted to move! He hopped back up and paced the large smial. There was a lot of open space, since they only had to store food for three, but it still didn’t compare to running out under the sky and sun. His legs twitched with contained energy and his curly little tail swished with excitement as he imaged running about through the snow. It would be so fun to see the powdery white stuff fly around him as he charged through it.

He wrung his hands and chewed on his lip the more he thought about it. It would be so much fun! He wouldn’t go far, of course. He would stay close to the smial. He just wanted to stretch his legs. 

He ran for the door, the temptation too much to resist, and struggled to open it. It wasn’t really meant to be opened and closed on a regular basis. It was more of a covering than a door really, just a precaution to keep critter thieves and weather away from their food stores. It normally took two adults to open and close it properly, and he dug his hooves into the dirt floor of the smial as he pushed with all his might.

Finally, it budged and he pushed harder with renewed vigor. Slowly, it opened up no more than an inch at a time until he could peer outside. He kept pushing, doing his best to wedge himself into the cracked opening. Eventually, he was able to squeeze through and he popped out into the deep snow. 

He stared down at the white stuff, surprised by its depth, but wasn’t deterred. He leaped out into it and it crunched under him as he landed. He winced as it scraped at his legs. It wasn’t soft and fluffy like he expected, but hard and almost solid on the surface. It came up to his knees and he realized he wasn’t going to be running through it. At least, not before break it up. 

He jumped again, bring his front hooves down together to break up the snow. It felt so good he did it again and again, until he’d made quite a game of it. He giggled as he jumped around crunching as much snow under his hooves as he could, his fluffy curls trapping heat around his body to ward off the cold. 

When he ran out of snow clumps to crush, he skipped about doing his best to kick up the broken snow he’d loosened. He pranced about, always careful not to venture too far from the smial. 

He giggled and pounced on another little mound of snow that had built up during his frolicking before freezing suddenly when his sharp ears picked up another slight crunch of the snow. He spun around but didn’t see anything. He listened, swiveling his ears about. He jumped when he heard it again and caught sight of something gray creeping through the trees towards him. 

He rushed at the door of the smial and tried to yank it open, but it didn’t budge. The snow had built up against it and was wedging it shut. He yanked at it again more desperately as the crunching of snow got closer. He gave up trying to open it further and tried to squeeze back through the partially opened door but his efforts only pushed it shut further. 

He reared and kicked at it in panic and frustration, desperate to get back inside, but it accomplished nothing. The wolves were closing in fast now, alerted by his struggling, and he panicked and sprinted away from the smial.

He jumped as much as ran as he tried to power through the firm snow but the wolves caught up quickly. They loped behind him patiently, growling and snapping at his legs, waiting for him to tire. He squealed in terror and ran even harder. They were as big as he was, if not bigger, and continued to snap at his rump and legs. 

He squealed again as his legs began to tire. He couldn’t keep jumping like this. “Mama!” He screamed, tears streaming through the soft curls of his face. “PAPA!” He squealed once more as he ran out of strength. One of the wolves jumped at him from the side, sending him crashing into the snow under it.

The wolf lunged for his throat but never landed its bite. It pair a hooves seemed to come out of nowhere and connected with the wolf’s head, knocking it away where it landed dead. 

“Bilbo!” Belladonna screamed for him as she caught up to her mate. She scooped him up while Bungo reared and roared at the wolves, kicking at them to fend them off. 

“Run, Bilbo! Run to the smial!” She urged him as she tried to guide him away. 

“But I can't open it!” He argued in despair. 

They both spun around when Bungo roared in pain, a wolf latched onto his thigh and he tried to buck it off. 

“Papa!” 

Belladonna raced to assist her stallion but the wolves were starving and had them surrounded. 

“Bilbo! Run!” She screamed back at him. She squealed as one of the wolves sank its teeth into her hind leg. She bucked and kicked, but another one grabbed her front leg. Moments later, Bungo stumbled to the ground, the wolves jumping at him as soon as he was within reach. 

“Papa!” Bilbo screamed for him as his mama tried to fend off her own attackers to assist. 

“Bungo!” She squealed as she lost the battle and they dragged her down too. 

Bilbo only saw her face for a moment after she landed before the wolves jumped on her. She only mouthed one word. ‘Run.’

But he couldn’t. His legs were frozen save for the intense trembling that had settled into him as the snow turned red before him. Tears streamed from his eyes as his parents were torn apart right in front of him, ripped apart beyond recognition as the wolves rushed to fill their starving bellies. 

He wanted to run away. But he had no where to run. He didn’t know where he should go. He didn’t want to leave them. He couldn’t leave his Mama and Papa.

It wasn’t until one of the wolves, face dyed red with blood, paused and stared at him that he broke from his frozen stare. Abject terror crashed through his sorrow and jump started his instinct to survive. He spun around and ran. He sobbed and he ran. 

He didn’t know how long he ran or even which way. All he could think about was the image of his parents dying in front of him and that he was next. He ran until a small group of geldings found him. They coaxed him to a stop and did their best to cajole some information out of him. 

He wasn’t even sure what he’d said or if they had understood anything through all his blubbering. He thought maybe he had gotten out the words wolves, mama, papa, and dead, but he couldn’t be sure. 

One way or another, they seemed to have found an answer and quickly escorted him to their herd’s smial. They ushered him inside and the other geldings quickly guided him to a sleeping pallet. 

It was a gelding herd then. Fitting for an orphaned gelding. But he had no room to dwell on that right now. He curled up around himself and sobbed out his grief and sorrow, barely even noticing when a warm body settled behind him and began petting his curls comfortingly. 

There was only one image in his mind, white tainted with deep red. And only one thought. ‘It was all. his. fault.’

**Author's Note:**

> gilly - term for young gelding foal  
> gelding - Shireling centaur who is a hermaphrodite/bi-gendered.


End file.
